Wet and Shiny
by petrelli heiress
Summary: No good would come of the equation 'Peter plus bucket,' you mark his words. No good at all. SEE SYLAR ALL WET AND SHINY. "Ooh, shiny..."


**Wet and Shiny**

**Author's Note: Thanks to queenoftheoutlands for some of the inspiration for this fic. I hope you enjoy this piece of crack. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes**

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Peter looked up to no good. If he had had a moustache, he would have twirled it. Thank the gods he didn't. He would have looked hideous (and just the teensiest bit hilarious).

He was holding a bucket. It was red. When he moved it from one hand to another (because it was heavy and his hands hurt after too long) there was a sloshing sound.

"Did you know a war was waged over a bucket?" he said to Sylar, who was glaring at him suspiciously. No good would come from the equation 'Peter + bucket,' you mark his words. No good would come from any equation with 'Peter +' in it (except possibly 'Peter + him' but that was a very secret thought, that not even Matt, the Wise and All-Knowing One, would be able to read).

Sylar raised one of his impressive eyebrows. This usually led to certain amenable reactions, including melting, happy gurgling, the complete inability to form words, and drooling, among others. On this occasion, however, Peter (the bastard!) merely smirked. "Where the hell did you learn that?" Sylar asked, thinking even humanity wouldn't be _that _stupid (although, to be fair, it didn't really have a great track record).

Peter shrugged, that insufferable smirk still plastered on his face. "Can't remember. But it _is _true." He moved the bucket from his left to his right hand.

"And this is relevant how?" Sylar asked, after about an entire minute. He had never been very patient. Around Peter, what patience he'd had decreased dramatically.

"Stand still," he heard a voice say firmly and he recognised the wise and all-knowing tone of Matt Parkman, the Wise and All-Knowing One. His body obeyed the instruction without complaint while his mind raged against its physical trappings.

Sylar watched Peter take a deep breath and then, shrugging as if to say "This wasn't my idea but what the hell," throw the contents of the red bucket over him. He was soaked through in an instant. It had been a big bucket. And the water felt as though it had come from the middle of the Atlantic (which it had).

He stood there, shivering, as Peter gaped at him. Finally! There were the amenable reactions the raising of an eyebrow usually brought about! He should get wet more often.

"Quick, you moron!" he heard a girl shout and thought he vaguely recognised the voice. "Push him into the sun! Quick, before he recovers!"

Peter blinked, wiped a bit of drool away and rushed over to him. He smiled apologetically at a soaked, half in shock Sylar before pushing him into a nearby patch of sun.

He heard gasps of awe from onlookers (where the hell had they come from, anyway?). One of them even had the audacity to cry, "Oooh, shiny!" But that wasn't as bad as that same female voice declaring, "He pulls it off much better than that vampire dude." He felt very offended – he was _nothing _like that idiot!

He glared at Peter, who was still standing beside him, holding him upright. "This," he said, shivering, his lips an unhealthy blue colour, "is _war_." He thanked his lucky stars that one of the last people he'd headsliced had had the power to manipulate, create and play with water (and that the Atlantic was just below them – now _that _was a stroke of luck). He brought the red bucket to him and filled it with water.

With a look of evil glee, he threw the contents of the bucket over Peter, who thus also became soaked and freezing.

The female voice shouted, "Look, everyone! They've started a water fight!" As the onlookers oohed and ahhed, some even indulging in some wolf whistling, Sylar gritted his teeth in frustration and vowed that, after he dealt with Peter, he would eviscerate that horrible female!

When he saw the evil glare Sylar threw him before marching forwards, hands bunched into fists at his side, Peter cowered behind a conveniently placed rock (a seal watched them placidly from on high) and wondered why he had the almost overwhelming urge to burst out laughing. "Come on, Sylar, I was only having a little fun," he said, trying and failing to keep a grin from his face.

The grin enraged Sylar and he rushed forwards, pushing both himself and Peter off the cliff. The seal watched them go, then yawned and scratched itself.

The onlookers ran to the edge and peered over. There was no sign of either Sylar or Peter. Admittedly the ocean was _very _far away and at least one of the onlookers wore glasses for a reason. This one turned to the girl and asked, "Do you think they're alright?" He wasn't too worried himself, but his son was looking a bit anxious.

She waved his fake concern away. "Oh, they'll be fine." She sniggered at the thought of what they were doing to each other. Some of the onlookers joined in.

The seal watched, bored, as Sylar and Peter crept up behind them, at least two buckets in their hands and a few floating in the air. It observed the reactions of the onlookers as they suddenly found themselves as soaked and freezing as the two men they had been laughing at only moments ago.

The girl turned around, fury in her eyes. She raised her hands, blue sparks running down her arms.

"Nooooo!" shouted the onlooker with the glasses.

The girl screamed as her beautiful blue sparks touched the water and electrocuted her. Dammit, she knew she'd been forgetting something.

Sylar and Peter fell about themselves laughing. Some of the onlookers broke away, to observe their wet hotness and murmur, "Ooh, shiny," amongst themselves.

Another onlooker, this one blonde just as the other girl had been, pointed at the two men. "_You hurt my Elle!_" she hissed. "This means waaaar!!"

Sylar and Peter glanced sideways at each other. "I think it's time we skedaddled," Sylar said, inching away from the deranged ex-cheerleader.

"Agreed," Peter said and then added, a twinkle entering his brown eyes, "Your place or mine?"

Thanking his lucky stars once again (although this time for the fact that Peter didn't seem to have noticed that he'd used the word 'skedaddled'), he grinned. "I think we should probably go somewhere they won't expect us to go."

"Your place then," Peter said instantly.

The seal yawned. It watched as the two men disappeared just as the mad blonde girl reached them. This meant that when she lunged at them, instead of crashing into them, she met the ground with a sickening crunch. It didn't say hello because dirt thinks humans are beneath it and thus never speaks to them. The seal turned over so that its other side could feel the warmth of the sun.

Thus neither did it see one of the onlookers switch off a camera nor did it hear this same onlooker remark to the son of the onlooker with the glasses, "I am going to get so many hits when I put this on YouTube!"

The son said, "Man, you're going to be so rich!"

One onlooker, however, _did _hear them. He looked, simultaneously, like he belonged on a ship and in a government office. He slapped the back of the son's head. "Ow," said the son.

The onlooker with the camera sniffed. "Serves you right for being so stupid. YouTube's _free_."

The son, rubbing his now very sore head, said, "Oh." Dammit, then why did people keep sending him money?

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**Well...apparently a war _did _start over a bucket...**

***goes back to imagining Peter and Sylar all wet and shiny***

**Review please. The seal doesn't like to be kept waiting. **


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